The Gift by C. A. Jamison

Author:C. A. Jamison [Jamison, C. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sundown Press
Published: 2016-10-17T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Six

The Resting

Bill pillowed his head on a cot in the back of the county jail. The hands on the clock above his bed pointed straight up midnight. The cell doors were open, and the jail was empty in his quiet town. But the accidents of late kept him wondering.

His inquiries to Frank Burns’s son had led him nowhere. The gas attendant attested to the fact that the auto in question was at his pump station the day Mrs. Parker died, with a flat tire.

Why would Nellie Crane lie to him? Maybe she was mistaken about what kind of car she saw. Maybe he was reading too much into a mere accident. He started to close his eyes when someone pounded on his door.

“Sheriff, you in there?” his deputy called.

“Just a minute.” Bill swung his legs over the cot’s edge and slipped into his pants. He grabbed his shirt and boots as he headed for the front of the jail. George hollering at midnight could only mean trouble.

Bill flung the door open. “What’s wrong?”

George removed his billed hat and stepped in. “I was on my watch and found Joe’s wife sittin’ on the steps at the company store. She’s in shock, Bill. Joe is dead.”

Bill tucked his arms into his shirt and fastened a button. “How?”

“He fell through the store’s picture window. The glass cut his throat clean near in two.”

What have we got? A murderer who likes to shove people to their deaths? Bill tucked his feet into his boots. “Get Doc and I’ll meet you there.”

****

Bill assessed the damage. Canned vegetables scattered on the floor. Goods of all types scraped from the shelves. On the counter, three cigar butts lay cold in a tray of ash.

Bill picked up the remains and sniffed the cherry scent. “The Wilson brothers were in here earlier.”

George moved away from the victim and stepped over an open bag of flour. “They’re in here every day. They drive the coal truck and pick up supplies. Always take their time, too.”

“Stay here and help Doc. When he leaves, board up the window. I don’t want anyone to touch anything.”

George nodded. “Where are you headed?”

“I’m going to patrol the town tonight. See who’s about. I’ll go out to the mines in the morning to speak with the Wilson boys.”

****

Nellie avoided Dan and went to bed early. Her wounds ached, and she prayed the meal she had left him on the stove would serve. Another night passed with haunting dreams of a drowning child and restless sleep. Pain in her knees made it difficult to rise from the warm blankets.

She went to the outhouse and then cleaned up the kitchen. The last slice from the slab of bacon was placed on a biscuit inside Dan’s lunchbox.

The front door creaked, and he called her name. Lunch in hand, she raced to the living room.

“Wait. Here’s your lunch.”

Dan's eyes were set low as he looked at the front porch floorboards. “What have you done?”

Nellie had no clue as to what he spoke of until she glanced outside the door.

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